


Cavalry Delayed

by The Little MerBucky (blue_pointer)



Series: Death Comes Calling [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 80s earworm, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Vampire, BAMF Tony Stark, Clusterfuck, Dum-E no, Evil Steve Rogers, Hangover, M/M, Minor Riley/Sam Wilson, New York City, Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies), RPG, Rhodey lives, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Sam Wilson, Vampire Steve Rogers, Winter Falcon, altruistic werewolves, by Jarvis, chilling with the ex, dysfunctional stucky, go boom, lord of the flies reference, no more first responders for you, past Bucky/Sam, the worst kind of stony, vampire hunters on a motherfuckin plane, werewolf Riley, when you go down for terrorism, white people on fire, you just got rick rolled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 08:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/The%20Little%20MerBucky
Summary: In an alternate universe where Steve, Bucky, and Sam are vampires, Steve has taken a shine to Tony. Can Bucky and Sam save his life before Steve gets his way?After his vampire valentine attacks Tony's home and nearly kills Rhodey, Tony fights back. With extreme prejudice.Sam flies to New York to make sure Bucky is still alive. He is, but maybe not for long with a vampire hunter freshly arrived on the scene.





	Cavalry Delayed

 

“RHODEY!” Tony roared, rushing the door as it was closing. “Rhodey! Noooooo!” He threw himself against the door, preventing it from sealing, using all his strength to push it back open.

“Sir, I must ask you--”

“Rhodey!”

“--to please remain inside the house where it’s safest.” But it was too late.

“Rhodey!” Tony had pushed it open just enough to slip back out, and now he was tripping down the stairs in his hurry to reach his friend.

“Sir, please return to the house.” Jarvis left the door ajar, his charge having escaped in spite of his best efforts.

“Rhodey! Rhodey, oh my god--” What was wrong with his legs? “Jarvis, call 911.”

“As you may recall, Sir--” An unseasonal wind whipped around Tony’s head, making him feel like a mime trying to get to where Rhodey lay on the sidewalk. “Contacting emergency services is one of the first steps in the omega delta protocol.” Tony knew that. He was just focused on trying to reach his friend. “Please, Sir. You’re clearly distraught. Please come back inside.”

The wind was giggling like the ghost of Jack Meridew. Tony glanced up, thinking for a moment that he’d seen something. But there was no time for peripheral illusions. He pushed forward, finally reaching his friend. Kneeling down, Tony reached to check for a pulse only to get knocked back on his ass.

“Ah-ah,” the wind chided.

Tony had had enough of this improbable bullshit. He grabbed Rhodey by the arm and started dragging him back toward the stairs. But he found himself spun around by another gust of wind, and he could have sworn there were lips pressed against his cheek for just a split second during. “That’s it!” he shouted. “Come out and fight me like a man!”

The ghostly wind giggled again. “You sure about that?” This time when it passed by, it slashed Tony’s cheek, leaving a line of blood dripping down his face. Tony dabbed at it automatically, surprised to see his fingers come away red.

“Sir, please,” Jarvis begged. “You’re in danger.”

“Be right there,” Tony grunted, grabbing hold of Rhodey again and trying to drag him closer. When he turned toward the door, something hit him in the chest. At first he thought he was under attack again, but then he saw the homemade grappling hook fall to the ground at his feet. “Are you trying to lasso me?” He watched Dum-E reel in the rope and start to clumsily swing the hook for a second try. “Give me that.” Tony grabbed it and secured the rope around Rhodey’s chest, up under his arms. “Okay, go!”

Between his dragging and Dum-E’s reeling, they managed to move two feet before the wind struck again. It swept by, cutting the rope with razor precision, laughing heartily at its own cleverness. Tony kept going. Almost to the stairs. He could do this without the droid’s help.

But Dum-E was confused. It hesitated, uncertain whether or not it should draw the rope back in. While it considered, something grabbed the rope and jerked it outside. The top-heavy droid fell down the stairs with a crash and a clatter. “Now that’s just low,” Tony snarled, already estimating how much damage had been done. “You steal candy from babies, too?”

As Dum-E struggled to right itself or get its bearings, the wind returned to hoist it into the air, playing a spirited game of ping-pong with itself. Tony could hear the droid’s wrist and ball joints whirring with confusion, and it made him that much more determined. “Dammit, Rhodes. After this, I’m putting you on a diet.” He had to ignore the noises from above, the scratching metal, the dinging and crunching, poor Dum-E’s frantic whirring, like cries for help.

He was through the door now, and with another grunting effort, so was Rhodey, still unconscious, but alive. “You forgot something,” a voice on the night air said, and a compacted ball of metal and rope sailed through the door, clattering across the floor. Jarvis quickly slammed and locked the door before any more could follow.

Tony left Rhodey where he lay--you weren’t supposed to move injured people anyway, right? But he’d had no choice--and walked over to examine the hunk of metal that had come in right before the door shut. It was Dum-E, crushed like an aluminum can, all of his parts and wires reduced to the size of a volley ball. He picked it up. Tony’s vision blurred.

“Jarvis, unlock the first floor gun safe.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Sir? We still haven’t an idea of which if any weapons will be effective against such an opponent.”

There was a series of loud bangs on the door, so loud, he thought for sure they would break the door down. Tony was exhausted from all the scares tonight, he could hardly jump with fright anymore. “Time for a weapons test,” he told Jarvis.

“You can let me in now,” a calm, almost familiar voice said from the other side of the door.

Tony didn’t have time for a snappy comeback. He was still on his way to the gun safe to choose a weapon. And anyway, whatever response he could have come up with would have been drowned out by the corny Irish folk fiddles suddenly blaring through the house at 135 decibels.

“Sir, you can’t!” Jarvis shouted through Tony’s wrist link, as though Tony were even considering it.

“Is this terribad serenade your way of talking me out of it?” He rifled through the available weapons.

“LET ME IN RIGHT NOW.” Tony wasn’t sure how he could even hear the thing at the door over the damn music.

“Studies suggest the application of a catchy tune at just the right moment can counteract the success of hypnotic suggestion.”

“You realize you’re going to hell,” Tony told it. “I’m not even sure if it would have been worse if you’d Rick Rolled me instead.” He grabbed the RPG and tested its weight in his hands, nodded to himself and stepped back.

“I would never give you up _nor_ let you down, Sir.”

“Touche.”

_Come on, Eileen!_

“That’s likely to be quite a test, Sir,” Jarvis observed as Tony planted his feet firmly and tried to sink into his center of gravity. It was going to take a little more than isosceles stance to absorb this shock.

He heaved the barrel up onto his shoulder. “But why not something decent like ‘Immigrant Song?’ Or even ‘Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap?’”

_Poor old Johnny Ray_

“Sir, I’m afraid you’ve listened to both of those so many times you’ve eliminated them as candidates to disrupt your concentration.”

Apparently the banging on the door had continued in spite of Tony’s inability to hear it, because the front door suddenly shattered inward with a crash.  

_But he moved a million hearts in mono_

Tony aimed carefully.

_Our mothers cried_

Steve casually stepped into view, for a moment the handsome young man he’d met two nights ago, leaning casually on the door frame. He smiled charmingly.

_Sang along, who’d blame them_

But Tony was done with pleasantries. He’d hurt Rhodie. He’d destroyed Dum-E.

_You’re grown...so grown…_

And while Steve’s lips were moving--no doubt still entreating Tony to let him in, he fired the rocket straight at the monster’s chest.

_Now I must say more than ever_

Unfortunately, Tony learned the hard way, vampires move faster than rockets.

_Too ra loo ra too ra loo rye aye_

The grenade blew out into the street, where it hit the fire truck that was rolling up outside his house. It promptly exploded, taking its crew of first responders and a good chunk of the neighbors’ across the street with it.

“Shit.” Tony lowered the empty launcher, stunned and numb. He’d never miscalculated so badly. Never.

_And we can sing just like our fathers_

“Perhaps this would be a good time to retire to the panic room, Sir?” Jarvis suggested.

The manic laughter cut through the music.

“Yeah.” Tony ran to grab Rhodey. “Sorry, arabica bean, promise this’ll be the last time I move you before help comes.”

_At this moment, you mean everything_

The thing that appeared in the doorway as he began to move away no longer wore a human mask.

_You in that dress_

It clawed at the door, alternately screeching with rage and laughing maniacally.

_My thoughts I confess_

Tony spared one backward glance for the ball of Dum-E he’d had to leave behind.

_Verge on dirty_

Oh, there would be payback. If he survived, anyway. There would be payback.

_Ah, come on Eileen_

He dragged Rhodey to the hidden door and managed to get them both inside safely.

 

*

 

Sam and Riley had been arguing for the better part of half an hour when his phone chirped again. “The boy clearly needs help, Sammy.”

“Now you sound like Bucky. I’m telling you, that kid’s toast. Circle of life.”

“Oh, but you’ll fly straight there tonight to make sure your ex is okay!” Riley did not like him going to visit Bucky. At all.

“After that shit Steve pulled earlier this week? Hell yes!”

Riley turned toward the window, unable to look at Sam just now. “Answer your phone,” he told him. Sam picked it up, glanced at it.

_He’s here._

Thank Anubis! And wouldn’t Riley be relieved to hear this whole fight was all for nothing? _James Barnes?_ he typed back.

_No. The big bad._

Sam felt cold. Why was the kid texting him if he was in that much trouble? _Sounds like you’re handling it._

_Wrong answer. No one’s coming to help us. I think my friend’s dying._

“Dammit!”

The second the word was out of his mouth, Riley was by his side, reading. “I told you. I told you, Sammy!”

“We’ll never get there in time!” Why was Sam so angry? At his husband, for being right? For playing Jiminy Cricket? Or at himself, for trying to stay out of it when he’d already been dragged back in?

“You’ll at least want to go take care of the body, won’t you?” Riley asked.

And Sam was immediately furious he’d pulled that string. He hadn’t been talking about the dead kitten’s body. “You know, I really hate you sometimes.”

Riley patted his shoulder consolingly. “I’ll catch the next flight out.” He kissed Sam briefly on the lips. “Be there to tuck you in.”

_So how do I kill him?_

_First, let’s stabilize your friend._ Sam was gone. Riley tapped a few buttons, listened to the phone ring. He grabbed his keys and his wallet from the bowl by the front door. 

“Hi. Tony, right? I was a field medic in the Air Force. Why don’t you describe what’s going on with your friend, and we’ll try to keep him alive until EMS can get to him?”

 

*

 

In spite of what Riley had been pushing on him for the last half hour--damn altruistic werewolves--Sam flew straight to Brooklyn. He was relieved to smell a still-undead Bucky when he reached Leaman Place. Sam let himself in through the broken window and finally found his ex passed out under a mountain of booze bottles. “Seriously? I fly all the way over here thinking you’re dead, and here you are, trying to prove to everyone how Irish you are.”

Bucky was unresponsive, so Sam dug him out and carried him to the nearest bathroom, tumbling him into the tub and turning the cold water on full blast. “Wake up, motherfucker. Shit is _happening_.” Sam chucked blood bags at Bucky’s head until he caught one.

“What the fuck you,” he croaked.

“Nice to see you, too, asshole.” He waited while Bucky drank. “You want the good news or the bad news?”

“Bad news.” Bucky wasn’t even in shape to open his eyes yet. Sam threw in a couple more blood bags.

“Bad news is your kitten’s probably dead. Sorry, dude.”

That did wake Bucky up. He gripped the sides of the tub and tried to pull himself up. “What? How?”

“Come on, man. Don’t tell me that’s not why you were drinking again.”

“That’s not why.” Bucky looked up at him with bruised eyes and Sam immediately wanted to stake Steve.

“Fuck that guy!”

Bucky sighed. “Sam--”

“No, uh-uh, fuck that. You’re not jumping to defend him this time. This time we’re gonna stick it to him. This time he doesn’t get what he wants.”

 

*

 

“Hoooolyyy shit.” Sam whistled appreciatively.

“Am I still drunk, or is this really happening?” Bucky asked.

Park Avenue West was in flames. As they watched, a S.W.A.T. tank drove through the front of Tony Stark’s house. “Well, that’s it. They’ll never be able to raise the rents this year.”

“Sam.” There was a time for joking, and this wasn’t it.

“I guess that’s one way to fight gentrification.”

“I don’t feel him here anymore.”

“Me neither. Then again, since when has Park Avenue _not_ been gentrified?”

No amount of joking was going to make Bucky feel less anxious right now. “We should go in, make sure they don’t shoot him.”

“Why would they shoot him?”

“Who do you think caused all of this damage? Steve?”

“Well, now you bring it up, yeah. Who else?”

“Maybe the son of a federally contracted weapons manufacturer? Who’s probably sitting on an arsenal big enough to blow up New York?”

“Damn, this kitten has claws.” Sam lit up a cigarette. He couldn’t take standing still for this long with the world coming down around his ears. “You’re right, they're probably gonna shoot him.”

“Sam!”

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, man. Look.” None of the S.W.A.T. team had come out, but now paramedics were rushing in with a stretcher. When Bucky gave him a tense look, he rolled his eyes. “They don’t take their bags for a body.” He slapped Bucky’s knee and gripped it, shaking him reassuringly.

They were back less than a minute later, wheeling out a dark-skinned man on a stretcher. “Well. Looks like kitten’s got good taste,” he remarked, considering changing his mind about this one.

“But where is he?” Bucky asked, wringing his hands. To be shot after having survived a night with Steve, that was Romero levels of irony.

An FBI van wound its way through the blockade, just in time to meet the 11 officers who emerged from the building escorting one very small, very scared Tony Stark. “Nice,” Sam remarked, as the police handed him off to the FBI. “We got this.”   

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, practically vibrating with nerves. Tony was scared. Terrible things had happened here, and it was all his fault. Why had he fallen asleep at his post? He could have prevented this. Could have stopped Steve, distracted him. Something.

“Give me your phone.” Bucky handed it over, surprised it was even still in his pocket. Seemed like the things were waterproof after all.

Sam dialed and waited for voicemail. “Alright, sweet potato, I know you’re flying and in airplane mode and all that groovy shit. And knowing you, you already got your permissions and made your contacts before you took off. But, trust me, you’re gonna want to make one more. Call your Blackwater guy. I’ll explain later.”

Bucky watched in silence as Tony was hustled into the van and driven away. “So what do we do now?”

“Now?” They did have a couple of hours yet before Riley’s plane touched down. For a split second, Sam was half-tempted to suggest a little oral sex and relaxation. But Bucky would never go for that when he was in mom-mode, and Sam would find himself being served divorce papers for sure when he got back home. But he got stuck staring at Bucky for a little too long anyway, wistful.

“Sam?”

“Right. Now you’re gonna follow that van so we know where he’s being kept. And I’m gonna check in on his friend.”

“Curiosity?” Bucky asked.

“For now, let’s call it solidarity.” They bumped fists, and Sam was sure they’d see each other later, but Bucky pulled him into a fierce hug first. He couldn’t say no to that.

 

*

 

Sam wasn’t exactly a fan of hospitals, but they didn’t scare him either. Lurking outside wasn’t going to get him much of anything. And though he’d switched to the psychology side of things in recent years, Sam had been a nurse long enough that he could still read a patient’s chart like a pro. Late as it was, no one tried to stop him as he made his way through the too-bright halls of the hospital. He had the right walk, the right look.

This was all going to be easy as pie. He’d just waltz into that hospital room, have a look at the kid’s chart, and maybe have a few words if he was conscious. Or that was the plan. What actually happened was that Sam set one foot inside the room and froze.

There was a man sitting in the chair by the victim’s bed. Sam had never seen him before, and yet he recognized him. There is no mistaking your antithesis. “That’s what I figured.” The man in the leather trench coat stood from his seat. And in that moment, Sam thought it was all over. Then he turned and moved to the window, giving Sam a moment to breathe, a moment to flee.

The man looked out at the darkened city with one malevolent eye. “The thing I hate about New York below 110th Street...” He took a deep breath. “Vampires here are like cockroaches. Just when you think you killed ‘em all, here comes some more.” He shook his head, disappointed. “Motherfuckers just don’t learn.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you've never heard [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8ORHVdTxbg), odds are you're younger than I am.


End file.
